


Comorbid

by Astarloa



Category: Death Note
Genre: Gen, Humour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 16:11:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1191459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astarloa/pseuds/Astarloa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Light is sleep deprived and L is himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comorbid

_Tap._

_Rattle, clink._

_Tap, tap, tap._

_Clink._

_Tap._

_Rattle, rattle._

_Tappity-tappity-rattle-clink-tap._

Light stared blankly at the bedroom wall, itchy blankets drawn up over his mouth. They smelt of lemon-scented detergent and carried a faint, underlying hint of something sweet, like icing-sugar. It wouldn’t have surprised him to learn that Watari sprinkled the stuff about on a daily basis, just in case his precious L found himself in need of a midnight snack.

Barely had the thought occurred when an image of L sucking on the bedclothes shuffled into Light’s brain and refused to leave.

He gave an involuntary shudder and rubbed a hand over the pillowcase, indulging in a quiet sigh of relief when no damp patches materialised. It seemed he was safe enough, for tonight at least, even if nightmares of hitherto unknown horror were now almost certain.

Of course, Light thought bitterly, in order to experience a nightmare he’d first have to fall asleep.

It didn’t seem likely.

Three weeks had passed since Light had been released from solitary confinement only to find himself chained to L, a heavy metal cuff secured firmly around his left wrist. That Light had contributed to his own predicament by agreeing to L’s scheme in the first place did nothing to soothe his growing irritability. 

Every evening was the same.

At around 7.30 p.m. – 7.43 at the latest - Light would start hinting that he was rather tired and of the opinion that L would be better placed to unravel the mysteries of Kira after a good night’s rest. Experience had shown that at least six hours of escalating complaint were required if Light was to succeed in wearing L down.

For a time he’d toyed with the idea of moving the schedule forward by an hour, just to be on the safe side, before concluding, after much careful consideration and devious plotting, that expressing a desire for sleep directly after dinner may sever the bindings of believability and arouse unnecessary suspicion. Or lead L to conclude that Light was an over-eating glutton on the verge of succumbing to a food coma, which wasn’t at all the impression Light wished to convey.

In truth, he feared that L would view Light’s apparent condition as a clue and insist they start trawling through the records of Overeaters Anonymous for leads on Kira. While such misdirection would undoubtedly have been to Light’s advantage, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. There was, after all, a small but important distinction to be drawn between an Evil Genius and the Incurably Insane.

All of which left Light with little choice but to press on with his current strategy of exaggerated yawning and eye-rubbing, followed by polite requests, whining, demands, and, finally, full-blown tantrums. For the most part it did the trick and had the added benefit of reducing Light to a state of genuine exhaustion.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the end of the matter.

Upon reaching his bed Light would curl into a tight, sullen, ball, and start counting criminals plummeting to their deaths from tall buildings. It appealed to him more than sheep or fences. Meanwhile, L would crouch within a nest of blankets on the twin bed opposite and continue working, laptop keys clacking at random intervals.

_Tap._

_Tap._

_Tap. Tap._

_Tap._

_Tappity-tap-tap-tap._

Each movement would in turn be accompanied by a corresponding rattle of the chain. Light was convinced that he wasn’t attached to the world’s greatest detective at all, but rather a percussive ensemble of one with a penchant for found objects.

Tonight was no different.

Forcing back a sneeze, Light tugged fretfully at the blankets until they were once against secured firmly under his chin. While not overly fond of sweet things himself, he considered it best to err on the side of caution and avoid temptation. He feared that L’s eccentricity may prove contagious in such close quarters. Specifically, that he’d find himself unable to recall the proper method for sitting on a chair and instead start perching in an undignified fashion, as if balancing on an invisible and too-small beanbag.

His dismal thoughts were interrupted by L’s voice floating, unexpectedly, out of the darkness. “If Light is cold I can have Watari find him an additional blanket.”

“I don’t need a blanket,” Light snapped, refusing to turn around. “I’m perfectly comfortable and nearly asleep.”

“You don’t sound nearly asleep. Besides, you’re rather thin and probably have insufficient body fat to maintain an adequate core temperature. Perhaps you should consult a physician. I hear they have excellent lolly-pops.” 

“ _I’m_ rather thin?” asked Light, in amazement. He rolled over and a glared at the shadowed figure illuminated only by the eerie glow of the monitor. “Me? By that logic you should be frozen solid!”

“My brain generates heat through constant activity. It’s unfortunate that your neural feedback mechanisms are less efficient.”

Light snorted. “You’re about the size of an eel,” he said, aware that it was a ridiculous statement, but unable to stop. “With the brain of one. Idiot.”

“What type of eel?” L asked, monotone voice giving the impression of supreme disinterest. 

“What type of…”

“Eel,” supplied L, helpfully. “ _Anguilla_ , being any fish of the order _Anguilliformes_. If Kira continues to forget words at this rate he will soon be reduced to exterminating cats sitting on mats. Or perhaps mats sitting on cats.” L carefully typed out a string of letters, before deleting them again. “Given that there are four suborders, twenty families, one hundred and eleven genera and eight hundred species I require further details of the eel in question to determine the accuracy of your statement.”

“I don’t know!” Light shrieked, lurching upright as the last remnant of his patience unravelled. “Just an eel! You’re a skinny, unhygienic, eel with messy hair that eats too much sugar and won’t let me sleep!” 

The said head of messy hair swivelled in his direction, black eyes blinking at him in a disturbingly eelish fashion. 

“Hmmm, “ L said, thoughtfully, before turning his gaze to the ceiling and pressing one forefinger against the corner of his mouth. “It seems that Kira is prone to childish tantrums when cold and suffers from an irrational dislike of eels. Such behaviour is consistent with his actions to date and increases the probability of Misa as the second Kira by at least twelve percent.” 

“I wouldn’t know, since I’m not Kira,” Light snapped, flopping back onto the mattress and burying himself under the covers. “And I don’t dislike eels.”

As it happened, both statements were untrue.

Light had developed a morbid fear of eels after falling into a pond as a small child and being bitten by one. Or, perhaps more accurately, nibbled upon, since the eel in question was of advanced years and wholly toothless. 

“Just shut up and go to sleep,” Light moaned. 

There was a moment’s silence, broken only by the rattle of the chain, before the room fell unexpectedly dark. 

“Sweet dreams,” murmured L.

And if Light hadn’t known better he would have sworn L was smiling.


End file.
